


Scout's Honor

by Pixie (Ayiana)



Category: JAG
Genre: 2005 Virtual Season, Drama, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-08
Updated: 2005-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayiana/pseuds/Pixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take a group of precocious 6 year olds, some bugs, and a sprinkling of glitter. Stir well, bake in the summer sun, and watch out for alligators. (Episode 4 of the 2005 Virtual Season, co-written with Ann)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scout's Honor

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note**: This story was written as part of the 2005 virtual season and contains short commercial breaks. The character of Benjamin is canon within the context of the virtual season.

  


************************  
Trailer  
*************

  
**2030 Local  
April 20, 2014  
Washington, DC**

  
Benjamin Rabb ricocheted off the walls from the garage into his father's study, fueled by excitement. His orange Tiger Cub shirt was smeared with chocolate, a fact which had Mac cringing as he bounced off the wallpaper. Some days, it really didn't pay to volunteer to go to Cub Scouts. She grinned at the thought of Harm's reaction to their son's news.

"Daddy! Daddy! Guess what!" Ben bounded into the study and would have jumped straight into Harm's lap had it been possible, but his father was surrounded by multiple stacks of papers.

"What, Ben?" Harm began piling the stacks into larger, more identifiable piles. "Did you and Mommy have fun at Scouts?"

"Yep. We had lots of fun. We had a cookie decorating contest." He pulled out his shirt. "I used chocolate. Lots and lots of it." He gave a beatific smile. "You shoulda been there, Daddy. Mommy ate five cookies." His eyes widened as he recalled the looks on the other mothers' faces. "Mrs. Jenkins barely took one bite of Timmy's cookies."

Harm laughed. "Well, maybe Mrs. Jenkins doesn't get as much exercise chasing Timmy around as your mom gets chasing you." He looked up to see his grinning wife posed near the doorway.

"I'll have you know, Ben is the calmest one of the bunch." Mac smiled at her son. "Tell Daddy the big news, sweetie."

"Right. I almost forgot." Ben bounced on the balls of his feet. "You know how in May we turn into real Cub Scouts, instead of stupid, baby Tigers?"

Harm bit back a laugh. "Yes."

"Well, in June, since we'll be real Cub Scouts, we get to go to day camp." Ben smiled at his father. "And you get to go too!"

"I do?" Harm raised appalled eyes to Mac. "How did this happen?"

"Mommy can tell you." Ben took another look at his shirt. "I better get a new shirt."

"You better get a bath, Tiger. It's almost bedtime." His mother reached for his hand but missed as he darted out of the room. "I'll be right with you, okay?"

"Okay." He ran off toward the stairs.

Harm cleared a spot on the sofa and patted it in invitation. "Nice try, Marine, but you can give me five minutes."

Mac lowered herself onto the seat. "Get the budget figured out?"

"It's getting there. But I think you know that isn't what I want to talk about right now."

"It's not? Because if it can wait..."

"It can't. What is this about I get to go to day camp too?"

Mac patted his arm. "Oh, don't worry about it. It's not that big of a deal. I just signed you up to be the second leader when Ben's group goes to day camp in June. I'd do it myself, but I have a conference I'm presenting at the first two days that week."

"Really?" His tone was dry.

"Really. I told you about it a month ago. The Commandant asked me to present a paper at some conference about women in the military. It's here in town, but I'll be busy from Sunday to Tuesday."

"I don't see what that has to do with volunteering me to go to day camp with Ben. Aren't there other parents in his group?"

"None that can go. Everyone else either can't get time off or has other, younger children to deal with. Besides, I'm going to go Wednesday through Friday. You just have to go Monday and Tuesday, although it would be better if you went Wednesday too, while I get acclimated."

Harm shook his head. "What makes you think I can take leave then?"

"Because you're the JAG. You can take leave when you want to." She smiled at him again. "Besides, it'll be fun."

A burst of laughter exploded from Harm's mouth. "You can't really expect me to believe that, can you?"

"Why not? It sounds like fun to me. I think the theme is space exploration this year."

"I can hardly wait. As to why it won't be fun, well, all I can say is I've been to Cub Scout day camp. Trust me, it's not fun."

"How can it not be fun? You get to spend a couple of days in the outdoors with your son..."

"Smearing sunscreen and insect repellent on five other kids, none of whom want it because only sissies use sunscreen. Eating hot peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, crushed potato chips, drinking lukewarm generic fruit punch. Believe me, Mac, day camp is many things, but fun isn't one of them." He shook his head. "Are you sure we have to do this?"

"Yes, Harm. Rich Donahue is going to be the den leader, but there have to be two adults there at all times. If you and I don't do it, the kids can't go."

Harm sighed in resignation. "All right. I'll even go with you on Wednesday. But you owe me."

She rose and wiggled her eyebrows. "You can collect right after I get Ben into bed."

Harm laughed as she left the room.

  
**0715 Local  
June 16, 2014  
Washington, DC**

  
Harm looked frazzled as he stuffed sandwiches and apples into the thermal pack. "You will recall that I said day camp week is always the hottest one of the summer. Did you see today's forecast?" He glared at Mac as she sat sipping a cup of coffee, her summer class A's neatly pressed and her briefcase ready to go.

"No, why?" She thumbed through the national news section of the Washington Post. "Is there something I should know?"

"The forecast for today is a high of ninety-six with eighty-five percent humidity. These kids will have passed out from heat exhaustion by noon." He dumped another tray of ice into the gallon thermos, then filled it with water. Harm glanced at his son who was shoveling Cheerios into his mouth. "You about ready, buddy?"

Ben nodded, then reached for his milk. "What's heat exhaustion, Daddy?"

"It's when you get too hot and can't get cool." Harm screwed the top down on the thermos jug. "So when I tell you to drink water, you do it."

"Aye, aye, sir." Ben chugged the rest of his milk, then pushed back from the table. He carried his dishes to the sink. "Do you want me to put these in the dishwasher?"

"No, I'll get them. I don't have to be at the Hyatt till nine." Mac smiled at her son. He was so cute when he was trying to be helpful. "Ben, you be a good boy today, all right?"

"I'm always good." His lower lip jutted out for a second, then he winked at his mother. "Just like you and Daddy were when you were kids." He darted out of the kitchen, calling to his father, "I'll be right back. Gotta get my hat."

Harm hauled the food and drinks out to the car, then returned to the kitchen. "Ben! Come on!"

"Coming, Dad!"

Mac raised an eyebrow at the term. Seemed like their little boy was growing up - or at least hoping to. "Come give me a kiss, Ben."

Ben wrapped his arms around her neck and kissed her cheek. "Bye, Mommy. We'll miss you today."

"I'll miss you guys, too. You can tell me all about it at dinner time." She stood and kissed Harm, then watched them leave the house. She would miss them. Harm might not believe her, but she really would have preferred going to camp to making a presentation. Sighing, she began to load the dishwasher.

  


**************************** Commercial Break ****************************

Summer is just around the corner. Be sure to have lots of fun activities planned for your children. Sign them up for either day camp or overnight camp at Virginia's lovely new facility, Camp Runamuck. For a free brochure, call 1-800-555-CAMP or go to our website at www.runamuck.org.

*************************************************************************

  
**0830 Local  
Camp Tunnel Creek  
Loudon County, Virginia**

  
"Hi, Harm. Glad you could make it." Rich Donahue held out his hand in welcome.

Harm shook it briefly and said, "Thanks, I think. Mac tells me I'm going to enjoy myself."

Rich grinned. "Best time you've had in years, trust me. What could be better than spending some quality time in the great outdoors with your son?"

"Good question." Harm pulled the thermos jug and lunch cooler out of the car. "So what, exactly, do we do here?"

"We take roll. The kids should be arriving any minute. Fall-in is at nine, so they better get here soon."

"Okay, then what?" It had been a long time since Harm had been to day camp.

"Each pack lines up around the flag pole. Then there is a flag ceremony. Our pack is doing it tomorrow afternoon." Rich turned to look at his son and Ben. "Tommy, Ben! You two get back here."

The youngsters looked up in surprise. "What, Dad?"

"You know the rules, Tommy. No wandering off without permission." Rich squatted down at the boys' level. "You guys need to be extra good this week, since your parents are the leaders, okay?"

"Yes, sir." Ben stood at attention.

"Remember, you're the den leader and Ben's the assistant leader. Admiral Rabb and I are looking to the two of you to set a good example for everyone else."

"Yes, sir." Tommy nodded at his father.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. Now can you two stand right here, while Ben's dad and I go over the schedule for a minute?"

"Yes, sir," they chorused.

"So how long will that last?" Harm said in a low voice.

"I give 'em five minutes, six if we're lucky." Rich grinned. "If I'm not mistaken, here comes the rest of the gang."

A red minivan pulled up and four more boys practically tumbled out. They raced across the parking area while an attractive blonde followed more slowly.

Rich introduced her to Harm. "Mary Lichtefeld, Harm Rabb. Mary's the one who drew the short straw when it came to carpool duty this week," he explained. "She's Ryan's mother."

Harm grinned. "It's nice to meet you, Mary. I don't envy you doing the driving."

She shrugged. "It could be worse. I could be you or Rich." She smiled at the two men. "After all, I just get to listen to them for an hour or so each way. You all get them for the whole day."

"Now, Mary. Don't scare Harm off. I've been telling him how much fun it's going to be."

Mary laughed. "If you believe that, I've got a really nice bridge in Brooklyn to sell you, Harm."

"Oh?" Harm was intrigued.

"Yeah. I've been to Cub Scout day camp before. Ryan is my second son. Rich here conned me into being a leader at it a couple of years ago." Her eyes twinkled. "I don't know how it happens, but every year, the week for day camp is the one where it's ninety-five in the shade at ten in the morning." She turned to go. "I'll be here at three. In the meantime, I'll think of you while I'm lounging around the pool."

"Good-bye, Mary." Rich grinned at her.

"Bye, guys." With a cheerful wave, she was gone.

Twenty minutes later, the Wolf Den of Pack 235 was falling in by the flag pole. "I pledge allegiance to the flag..."

  
**1530 Local  
Harm's Car**

  
"Oh, Tom the Toad, oh, Tom the Toad,  
Why are you lying in the road?

You used to be so green and fat,  
But now you're small and red and flat.

Oh, Tom the Toad, oh, Tom the Toad,  
Why are you lying in the road?"

Harm looked over at his son. Ben's face was sunburned despite the sunscreen he'd slathered on him, and he was scratching at a mosquito bite on his arm. So much for DEET. Maybe he should have believed that other den leader who was coating all the kids in her den with what looked like bath oil. None of them had gotten bitten. Of course, all of them were also walking oil slicks.

"You know, Ben, you might not want to sing that song for Mommy."

Startled brown eyes met his. "You think she won't like it? I guess I could sing Oh, Sue the Skunk, why did you make my tires go clunk."

Harm laughed. "I think I'd avoid that one too. I'm not sure it's quite Mommy's type."

Ben scrunched up his face and thought for a minute. Then he nodded. "You're probably right. She likes really gross songs."

"She does?" Harm was surprised.

"Yeah. She taught us how to sing 'I'm looking over my dead dog Rover' at Tiger Cubs last month. We did the one about I'm squishing up a baby bumble bee too." He smiled smugly. "It's really disgusting."

"I see." Harm took a deep breath. He still wasn't sure he was having fun at day camp, but he certainly was getting an education. So much for squared-away Marines.

The rest of the drive home was quiet, since Ben dozed off about five miles farther down the highway.

  


*************************** Commercial Break *******************************

Camp Runamuck, the new camp with the most fun activities. Join us and take part in the "roll the counselors down the hill" Derby, the short-sheeting contest, the campers versus counselors water fight. For information, call 1-800-555-CAMP or go to our website at www.runamuck.org.

***************************************************************************

  
**1800 Local  
Rabb Residence  
Washington, DC**

  
"So tell me, guys, how was day camp?" Mac strolled into the kitchen and grabbed a carrot from the counter.

"I was planning to put that in the salad," Harm teased.

"So get another one. I'm starved." Mac pulled up a stool, took a bite of carrot, and watched Harm show Ben how to tear lettuce. "Looks like you got some sun, Ben."

"Yeah, Daddy put stuff on me, but it was so hot that I think it sweated off."

"I think you wiped it off with your bandanna." Harm reached for a tomato.

"Bandanna?" Mac took another bite.

"Yeah. Mr. Donahue gave us all bandannas and we got 'em wet and put 'em around our necks to keep cool." Ben ripped some more lettuce leaves. "And Daddy led the singing."

"He did? Wow. What songs did you sing?" Mac's eyes danced with amusement.

"I can't tell you."

Ben's serious tone made her want to laugh. "Why not? Is it classified?"

"No, Mom." Ben rolled his eyes. "Dad thinks that you're a girl, and you'll get sick if I tell you."

"Really? How thoughtful of you, Harm. And just what made you think that?"

Harm choked back a laugh. "I don't think I can tell you in front of junior here."

"I'm not junior. I'm Ben. Anyway, if you'd named me Harm, I'd be the third." Ben wiped his hands on his shorts. "I'm done. Can I go?"

Harm nodded. "Stay in the house, though. Supper should be ready in about ten minutes."

"Yes, sir. I'm going to go play with Legos in my room." He hopped down from the stool he'd been standing on and raced out of the room.

"Juice?" Harm offered Mac a glass.

"Thanks." She looked up at him. "Need any help?"

"No, it's under control. So how was your presentation?"

"It was good. I think it went over well. Cammie Cresswell was there."

"Oh?" He moved the salad bowl out of the way and reached for the ingredients for garlic bread.

"Yeah. Did you know she went into the Navy instead of the Marines?"

Harm shrugged. "Bud might have told me that a while back, but to tell the truth, I only met her once, and she didn't really make much impression. Did you talk to her?"

"Yeah. She said the general said to tell us hello." Mac sipped her juice. "Now tell the truth. Was day camp as bad as you thought it would be?"

"Yes, and no." He spread butter on thick slices of Italian bread. "Ben was pretty good. He and Tommy did a decent job for kids their age *leading* the den."

"Which means what?"

"It means they noticed first when the sign was up. They kicked people in the ankles to tell them to get quiet."

Mac chuckled. "Well, they are only six."

"I know. It was pretty funny at times. There is one kid that kind of worries me, though."

"Oh? In what way?"

Harm took the pan of bread slices and crossed the room to put it in the oven. "He comes across as though he's trying to be a tough guy, maybe a bully. But other than Ben and sometimes Tommy, the kids seemed to pick on him." Harm checked the lasagna, then closed the oven door. "It's hard to put my finger on it."

"Was it a little short kid? Dark wavy hair? A cowlick on one side?"

"Yeah, and freckles." Harm grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

"That sounds like Brad Watkins." Mac stared into her glass. "He was different at the beginning of the year."

"Hmm. Different good or different bad?" Harm drank deeply.

"Different good. Of course, that was before his dad got deployed and his mother had the baby."

"Ouch." Harm pulled plates from the cabinet. "What's the rest of that story?"

Mac chewed on her lower lip. "I'm not sure exactly. His dad is a captain in the Corps. He got sent to Iraq in December. Brad started to get a little bossy shortly after that."

"Maybe he got told to be the man of the house." Harm finished setting the table. "But he wasn't bossy so much as angry today."

"He changed some more after the baby was born. His mother's family lives on the west coast somewhere, so she's got no family support here. And she had a first grader along with this new baby. Sometimes at Tiger meetings, I'd catch her crying."

"Does she know about the help that's available through the Marines?" Harm sat down beside Mac.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I gave her some brochures, told her to call me, but she never did."

"I'm not sure there's much more you could do, Mac. I'll keep an eye on him tomorrow."

The time pinged, and Harm rose to take the food from the oven as Mac went to call Ben to the table.

  
**1100 Local  
June 17, 2014  
Camp Tunnel Creek**

  
"All right, Chris. Why don't you tell me what happened?" Harm sat down beside the crying child.

"Brad put a gross bug down my shirt." Chris sniffed audibly. "I hate bugs, and he knows it."

"That doesn't sound very nice. What happened to the bug?" Harm couldn't help but wonder what a boy who hated bugs was doing out in the woods at Cub Scout camp.

"It fell on the ground." Chris sniffed again. "My shirt isn't tucked in, so it fell out."

"Ah. Got it. So then what?" Harm kept his voice low.

"Then I pushed him, and he told me I was a stupid head."

"Has he apologized to you yet?"

Chris wiped his eyes. "No. He isn't going to neither."

One of Harm's eyebrows went up a fraction of an inch. "Why do you think that?"

"He never does. He does mean things all the time, but he never says he's sorry."

"I see. What about you? Did you apologize for pushing Brad?"

"No. Why should I? He started it." The child drew himself up in indignation. "He's the one who should say he's sorry."

"I agree. Brad should tell you he's sorry. And you should tell Brad you're sorry." Harm looked the little boy in the eye. "No matter what he did, you were wrong to push him."

"So I have to say sorry?" A small lip jutted out in a pout.

"Yes, you do." Harm stood up. "Trust me, Chris. Being able to say you're sorry is a good thing. Everyone makes mistakes from time to time. People like it when you admit it if you're wrong."

On the other side of the clearing, Rich was talking to Brad. "I know, Brad. Chris shouldn't have pushed you. But it wasn't nice to call him a name."

"He deserved it. He's a wuss. He hates bugs." He kicked the toe of his shoe in the dirt.

"I'm sure there are some things you don't like either. At any rate, you need to apologize to him for calling him names and for putting the bug down his shirt in the first place."

"I didn't do that." Brad's shoe dug up some more dirt. "Not gonna apologize for something I didn't do."

"He says you did, Brad. Ryan said he saw you do it."

"Don't care. I didn't do it." Brad got a mulish look in his eye. "I'll tell him sorry about the name."

Rich nodded. "All right. But keep your hands to yourself, okay? And don't call anyone names. It's not nice."

"Yes, sir." A glum little boy followed the den leader across the campsite.

Two quick apologies and a reluctant handshake later, the boys joined the rest of the group for a cooking lesson.

"Today, we're going to learn how to make smushies," a cheerful counselor explained. "All you need is big pot full of hot oil, a can of refrigerator biscuits, and a bag of Hershey's kisses."

"Oh lord," Harm groaned. "She doesn't really expect kids that age to cook with hot oil on an open fire?" he whispered to Rich.

"Nah. Coleman stove. Much safer." Rich leaned back against the tree they were standing next to. "These things are delicious."

Of course they are, Harm thought. What's not to like? Grease, white dough, and chocolate. Mac would love them if only she were here. "I'll take your word for it. Looks like the kids are going to eat them all." He felt a tug on his hand and looked down.

"Daddy, I need to tell you and Mr. Donahue something." Ben was holding out two lumps of fried dough. "Ryan lied about the bug."

Rich and Harm took the smushies. "What do you mean, Ben?" Rich asked.

"He lied. He told Chris that Brad was the one who put it down his shirt, but it was Ryan."

"Why would he do that?" Harm was confused.

"To get Brad in trouble." Ben shrugged. "I better go." He rejoined the other boys.

Harm and Rich exchanged worried looks. "Guess we better talk to Ryan," Rich said.

Harm nodded in agreement. "I think so. And to think I thought it was tough dealing with my staff at times."

Rich laughed. "Could be worse. Could be middle school kids." He laughed again at Harm's horrified expression. Slapping Harm on the back he said, "Don't worry. I'll talk to Ryan."

"Thanks."

They were interrupted by the clamor of six boys, all reminding them it was time for lunch.

"Lunch? I thought you were full of smushies." Rich counted heads.

"Nope. Those were just a snack." Tommy rolled his eyes. "We're hungry."

"Then let's head 'em up and move 'em out." Harm rounded the boys up, and the group returned to base camp.

  
**2200 Local  
Rabb Residence  
Washington D.C.**

  
"I can only imagine what tomorrow's crisis will be," Harm finished telling Mac about the incident with Brad and Chris. He rubbed his hand through his hair. "I'm still not sure what to believe. Ryan says he didn't put the bug down Chris's shirt."

Mac snuggled closer to Harm, pulling the sheet with her. "Do you really have to turn the air conditioning so cold?"

"You'll understand after tomorrow." He nuzzled her neck. "So who am I to believe? Chris, who didn't see it, Ryan who says he did, or Brad who insists he's innocent, but was standing next to Chris when the bug went down his shirt?"

"I'd believe Ben. He has no reason to lie about it. He's also got no particular ax to grind with any of the boys, as far as I know." She kissed the hollow at the base of his neck.

"Good point. But that still leaves us with no proof of anything." He idly rubbed his hand on her back.

"I know. But, Harm, it's Cub Scouts, not a courtroom. All any of us can do right now, is keep an eye on all three of them."

"I guess you're right." He turned so that he was poised above her. "You can say it, you know." He grinned at her.

"What - that I'm always right? I thought that went without saying." Mac pulled his head down to hers. "Now, you will recall that I told you I'd make it worth your while to go to day camp."

"You did." He leered at her. "So how are you going to do it?"

"Like this." She nudged him over on his back and began to leave a trail of kisses down his throat, stopping only when she got to his nipple. She ran her tongue around it, coaxing it to hardness. At the same time, her hands were gently caressing the rest of his torso, bringing him to full arousal.

"Slow down, Marine. Let's savor this," he whispered, his hands making slow circles on her body.

"Uh huh." She rolled back over, pulling him on top of her. "Have I mentioned how much I love you?"

"Not since this morning, no." He dropped a kiss on her nose. "But I'm getting the message." He lowered his head to kiss her. "I love you too, you know." He then proceeded to show her exactly how much.

  


***************************** Commercial Break *****************************

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****************************************************************************

  
**1430 Local  
June 18, 2014  
Camp Tunnel Creek, Virginia**

  
He met her eyes across the sea of little people, his expression one of amused exasperation that made her grin in response. They'd been helping with a group craft project, and though they weren't even half finished, the picnic pavilion looked like a war zone. Scraps of construction paper littered the tables, the floor, and more than a few heads of hair. Glitter, the bane of every parent's existence, had found its way onto everything except the miniature space ships the boys were supposed to be making. Harm bent to pick up an errant toilet paper tube, handing it to a little boy who grinned his thanks before turning back to his task, small head bent in concentration, the tip of a pink tongue peeking out between his teeth.

Mac felt a tug on her shirt and glanced down, her gaze connecting with a pair of earnest green eyes.

"Mrs. Rabb? Can you help me?"

"Sure, Chris. What do you need?"

He held out a mangled toilet paper tube. "Can you hold this while I put the glue on?"

"Absolutely." Putting one foot on the picnic bench next to Chris, Mac bent to the task at hand. At other tables, more boys were working on the same craft project, each den with its own table and contingent of adult volunteers. The result was a sort of organized chaos.

"There," she said, carefully unsticking her fingers from Chris's project. "Will that work?"

"Yup." He grinned up at her. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Mac moved on, checking on the other kids, lending a hand when needed, and occasionally hurrying to grab pieces of construction paper and yarn before they could be carried away by the afternoon breeze. She'd bent to retrieve a pair of safety scissors from beneath a bench when a sudden eruption of childish anger nearby brought her head up.

"You ruined it!" Timmy's voice carried the sound of angry tears.

"I didn't mean to…" Brad. Defensive. This couldn't be good.

Harm, Mac, and Rich converged on the boys, too late to stop Timmy's next move, but not too late to groan at the results. Timmy, his actions fueled by anger and youthful lack of control, grabbed Brad's craft project and crushed it between his hands, wadding it into an unrecognizable ball of wet glue, construction paper, and cardboard before throwing it back across the table at the other boy.

"There," he said triumphantly. "Now we're even."

Predictably, Brad burst into tears.

Harm and Mac exchanged a glance and acted, each taking a small boy by the hand and leading him to a corner of the pavilion - away from the other children who, excitement over, quickly turned their attention back to their own projects. Like fighters in the ring, the two boys glared at each other across the other campers, faces streaked with tears and dirt. Mac sighed and settled her hands on Timmy's shoulders, turning him towards her and away from the rest of the children. She crouched down, meeting him at eye level.

"What happened, Tim?"

Timmy scrubbed at his eyes with the back of one grimy hand before answering. "He ruined my spaceship!"

"I heard that part," Mac answered. "How did he ruin it?"

"He dumped glitter all over it!"

"Couldn't you just dump it off again?"

Timmy looked at her sullenly. "He did it on purpose."

"How do you know that?"

"'Cause he always does stupid stuff like that. On the hike this morning, he shoved me and I almost fell down."

"That was an accident and you know it," Mac said gently. "I saw what happened. He tripped on a root and fell into you."

"He's a dweeb."

"Timmy." Mac's voice was firm. "That's not a nice thing to say."

"It's true!" Timmy's chin jutted out mutinously.

"It is not, and you know it."

Timmy's response was to scuff his toe on the concrete, staring at the small cloud of dust he raised as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"I want you to go over there and apologize to Brad."

"But he started it!"

"I don't care who started what. You did wrong, and you need to apologize."

"But…"

"No buts."

Timmy folded his arms stubbornly.

"If you'd prefer, I could discuss this with your father at the next den meeting…"

"No!" Timmy's response was instantaneous, as Mac had known it would be. "Please don't tell him."

Mac angled her chin toward Harm and Brad, who were walking toward them. "Then go apologize."

Timmy sighed and turned toward Brad, arms still folded, chin jutting dangerously. "Sorry."

He didn't sound very apologetic, but Mac let it go, waiting to see what Brad would do.

"Sorry."

Mac held back a grin. The sullen tones were a carbon copy of Timmy's.

"Now shake," Mac said, reminding them of the tradition.

The boys glared at each other, but did as they were told.

"All right, you two," Harm said afterwards, "get back to work. Timmy, maybe you'd help Brad fix his spaceship?"

"Yeah. Sure." The response held a noted lack of enthusiasm, but the two boys turned and headed obediently back to the picnic table.

Harm and Mac stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the boys go. She felt him snag her fingers with his. "So," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "Are you having fun yet?"

"Absolutely." She meant it. "What was Brad's story?"

Harm shrugged. "He says somebody shoved him."

"Do you believe him?"

"Hard to say. He seemed earnest, but he's been in one scrape after another with the other boys since we got here."

Mac sighed. "Poor kid."

They watched the kids work for a few minutes, and Mac noticed that most seemed to be getting close to finishing. "We'd better get over there," she said. "Looks like they're about ready to start cleaning up."

"Gee. I can hardly wait."

She laughed and moved away, stepping smoothly back into her role as adult volunteer as she began scooping up scraps and gathering scissors into a tidy pile.

It took several minutes and much noise to bring the picnic pavilion back to some semblance of its original tidy order, but when they finished, most of the craft materials had been confined to a single table in the corner, and all of the boys were waiting anxiously for their parents, spaceships cradled carefully in their hands.

Mac latched the lid on the garbage can and turned around, her eyes automatically going to the milling group of children. Afternoons were always the hardest when it came to keeping up with the kids. Tired, argumentative, anxious for their parents' arrival, they tended to be more difficult to control than they were in the mornings. She did a quick head count, scanning the assembled group for her son's den.

Timmy, Ryan and Chris were walking the low stone wall that bordered the pavilion, spaceships held high above their heads in simulated flight. Tommy and his dad were carrying craft materials to the lodge, Ben following behind with a box of what looked like unused cardboard toilet paper tubes. That left… She scanned the group of kids. Where was Brad?

"Harm?"

He turned toward her from his position a few feet away where he was helping a little boy untie a knot in his bandanna. "What?"

"Have you seen Brad?"

Harm scanned the group of kids. "Not in the last few minutes, no. Want me to look for him?"

"He probably just went to the bathroom." They'd repeated the buddy rule to the boys so many times that it should've been automatic for them to never go anyplace alone. They were still young though, and Mac knew all too well that the young did not always do as they were told. "I'll go check," she said. "You'd better stay here. Mary should be along any minute to pick up her group."

He nodded and turned back to what he was doing.

Mac scanned the pavilion one last time before starting off toward the bathrooms. She stopped to talk to Rich on the way, still not bothered when he said he hadn't seen Brad either. Instead, they shared a commiserating smile over the challenges of keeping up with a group of young boys, and she went on her way, fully expecting to find Brad within moments and escort him back to join the rest of the group.

Brad wasn't in the bathroom.

He also wasn't in the mess hall, or any of the cabins, or the camp office.

Growing increasingly concerned, Mac headed back to the picnic pavilion. They'd find Brad faster if more people were looking, and most of the kids would probably be gone by now anyway. Rich and Harm saw her coming and moved to meet her.

"Mac…?"

She met Harm's eyes, her own full of concern. "He wasn't there, Harm." She turned to Rich. "I also checked the cabins, the mess hall, and the camp office. No sign of him anywhere."

"Okay," Rich said. "I guess it's time to organize a search party." He turned toward the pavilion, doing a quick count of the remaining adults. "I'll get things organized here." He looked at Harm. "Would you go up to the camp office? Let them know what happened? They've got some radios we can use too."

"Will do." Harm headed for the office at a sprint while Mac and Rich turned back to organize the search.

  
********************

  
By the time Harm returned with the radios and three members of the regular camp staff all but a handful of boys had gone home. Mary had taken most of Ben's den home, but a few boys from other dens whose parents were den leaders or assistant den leaders were still there. Harm did a quick head count. Ten adults and five boys. It was enough to get started, at least. Hopefully they'd find Brad pretty quickly, but if not, the local sheriff's office should be here soon to join in the search.

Harm glanced up at the sky and cursed under his breath. Storm clouds were gathering in the northwest. Rain would complicate the search considerably.

"All right, everybody. Listen up." Rich was standing on a bench so that everybody could see him. "Thank you for staying to help with the search. Hopefully, we'll find Brad quickly so that we can all be home for dinner." He looked around the assembled group. "One of us needs to stay here with the boys, which leaves nine for the search."

"Sir?" It was Ben.

"What is it, Ben?" Adult impatience tinged Rich's voice.

"Why can't we help?"

"You'll be safer here, Ben."

"But Brad's my friend." Ben turned to Harm. "Dad, you told me that in the military you never leave a man behind, right?"

Harm nodded.

"Well I don't want to leave Brad behind. I want to help."

Ben folded his arms across his chest with a determined glint in his eye and Harm felt a surge of pride. He turned to Rich. "We could use the extra eyes and ears…"

Rich considered that for a moment, and then turned to the boys. "Do all of you want to do this?"

They nodded eagerly, and Rich turned back to the rest of the group. "All right then. We'll do two adults and one scout in each group with the exception of one. I need somebody to volunteer to stay here at home base."

"I'll stay." Mac said. "Harm and I have survival and first aid training. He and Ben can search as a team, and I'll be here if one of the other teams finds Brad and needs help."

Rich looked to Harm for confirmation, then pulled out a map of the campground. "All right, let's divvy up the territory."

Each group of searchers was assigned a section of the campground and given a radio.

Harm looked at Ben. "Ready, son?"

"Yes, sir."

"Let's go, then."

It had grown increasingly cloudy while they'd been organizing the search, so they stopped at the car for rain ponchos and a flashlight. Harm grabbed the blanket they always kept in the trunk, slammed the hatch, and they headed out.

  


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**1815 Local  
Camp Tunnel Creek  
Loudon County, Virginia**

  
Two hours later, they were still searching, and Harm was growing increasingly concerned. They'd been in constant radio contact with the other teams and with Mac, so he knew that Brad's mother had arrived and was waiting anxiously at the picnic pavilion. The rain had started forty-five minutes earlier, and now he and Ben huddled miserably in their ponchos as they trudged down the path, calling out for Brad every few seconds.

"Dad?"

"What is it, son?"

"What if Brad was running away?"

Harm looked over at Ben. "Running away?"

"Yeah."

"What makes you think he'd do something like that?"

Ben shrugged, but didn't answer.

"Ben…?" Harm stopped walking, his hand on Ben's shoulder. "Answer me, son."

"It's just…" Ben kicked at a rock, then finally looked at his father. "He thinks his mother hates him."

Harm's stomach clenched. "What makes him think that?"

"He says all she ever does is yell at him."

Harm remembered what Mac had told him about Brad's family situation and sighed.

"Dad?"

Harm looked down into his son's worried gaze. "What?"

"We are going to find him… Aren't we?"

He squeezed Ben's shoulder. "We'll find him, son. I promise."

Ben nodded and they started walking again.

"So," Harm said casually. "Did Brad ever say where he would run away to?"

Ben thought hard for a minute before nodding. "He said he'd go to his uncle's house."

"Did he say where his uncle lives?"

"Nope. Just said he was cool."

Harm sighed and clicked the radio on. "Mac?"

There was a burst of static, and then her voice. "Here, Harm."

"Is Brad's mother handy?"

"She's right here. What's up?"

"Does Brad have an uncle?" he asked.

"Just a second." There was a moment's pause, and then she was back. "Two, why?"

"Is he especially close to either of them?"

Another pause, and then, "His Uncle Greg. Why do you ask?"

"And where does Uncle Greg live?"

Mac's reply was quicker this time. "Alabama."

Harm resisted the urge to groan. Six years old and on the run to Alabama. Not good. He clicked the radio on again. "Ben thinks Brad may be trying to get to his uncle." He didn't say running away. Running toward seemed somehow less terrible.

There were a few seconds of silence on the radio, then a simple, "Understood."

He pocketed the radio, his mind whirling, a mental image of the campground playing through his mind. A thought occurred to him and he groaned. Surely not. "Ben?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"Did you kids ever talk about the swamp?" There was a swamp on the property. It wasn't a big one, but it could still be a dangerous place for a small lost boy.

"You mean Dead Man's Walk?"

Harm quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "Is that what you call it?"

"Yeah." Ben looked vaguely awed. "It's full of snakes and alligators," he said. "Tommy told me that one time a group of Scouts was walking by the swamp and a giant man-eating gator grabbed a counselor and dragged him off." Ben's eyes were huge. "The next year, another group of Scouts found a skull." His next words were almost whispered, and Harm had to listen hard to hear. "There were teeth marks in it."

Harm swallowed his grin. "Do you think Brad might've gone that way?"

Ben considered that carefully. "I don't know."

"We'd better check it out." He keyed the radio. "Mac?"

"Yes?"

"Ben and I are going to check out the swamp."

"Okay. I'll let the others know"

Harm and Ben turned south along the trail that led to the swamp. For several minutes, they were quiet as their shoes squished in the mud and they periodically wiped rain from their faces.

"Dad?" Ben finally asked.

"Yes?"

"Why's everybody so mean to Brad?"

Harm looked over at him.

"I don't know, son."

Ben was quiet for a minute. "I like him," he said finally.

"I do, too."

Ben slipped his hand into Harm's, something that happened less and less often lately. "I'm glad you're here with me instead of off fighting somewhere like Brad's dad."

Harm squeezed Ben's hand. "I am, too."

They'd arrived at the outskirts of the swamp, and conversation ceased as they concentrated on looking for signs of the missing scout. Harm and Ben took turns shouting Brad's name and they both listened hard for any hint of a reply. The rain continued; an occasional rumble of thunder and flash of lightening drawing Harm's worried gaze to the darkening sky. If Brad was out here, he was wet, hungry, and probably terrified.

"Brad! Where are you!" Harm shouted his frustration and worry into the deepening gloom just as Ben slipped and went down, landing hard in the slimy mud.

Harm stopped immediately, bending down next to his son. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Ben rubbed his elbow.

Harm helped him up, wincing at the mud that covered the child's back from heel to head. Mac wasn't going to be happy about that. He sighed and turned around, shining his light in an arc through the surrounding scrub brush. The swamp was eerie at this time of night, with the steady drip of the rain, the vague musty smells of decaying plant life, and the annoying hum of mosquitoes. They hadn't had a downpour, so the heat of the day hadn't been washed away, and the resulting steamy warmth was uncomfortable, even though it was nearly dark. Decidedly not fun – especially for a lost little boy.

"Brad!" He yelled again, his voice swallowed by the expanse of wilderness all around. He sighed.

"Dad!"

Ben's sudden tug on his sleeve brought his head back down. "What?"

"I heard something!" Ben's excitement was almost palpable.

Harm shined his light around the swamp again. "Where?"

"Over that way."

Harm pointed the flashlight beam in the direction Ben pointed, illuminating a clump of trees on the other side of a particularly disgusting bit of slime covered swamp.

"Brad?" He called. "Brad, if you're out there, give a shout!"

He stared hard across the swamp, looking for the slightest sign of movement. At first, there was nothing, but then he thought he saw something move, and he twitched the light in that direction.

"Help me…" The voice was small and frightened, and Harm felt a surge of relief.

"Brad! Stay put! I'm coming to you!"

He keyed his radio. "Mac?"

"Yeah."

"We've found him."

"Thank God. Is he okay?"

"I'll let you know when I get over there. He's in the middle of the swamp."

"Oh."

"Yeah. I'll get back to you in a few minutes."

"All right. Be careful."

"Will do."

Harm turned to Ben, crouching down by his son's side. "Ben… I have a very important job for you."

"What is it, Dad?"

"I want you to stay here with the radio. I'm going to go after Brad, and I need somebody here on dry land who can stay in touch with your mom in case there's any trouble." He could've taken the radio with him, but he didn't want Ben in the swamp, and this way Ben could still feel like he was helping. "Can you do that for me?"

Ben nodded seriously. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Stay put, Ben. No matter what happens."

"Okay, Dad."

Harm hugged him quickly and then stepped into the slimy water, cringing when it flooded in over the tops of his shoes. Delightful. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, keeping up a running conversation with the boys as he moved, both to calm them, and to make sure Brad stayed where he was. By the time he reached the small island of dry land, he was covered to his waist in decaying plant matter.

"Brad?" No answer. "Brad? Where are you?"

"Up here."

Harm looked up, his gaze finally locking on a pair of frightened green eyes and a head of tousled hair. "Hey, Brad. That was a smart thing to do." He kept his words light, trying to ease the child's obvious fear. "I've never known a 'gator that could climb trees."

Brad gave him a weak grin in reply.

"Want to come on down now?"

Brad considered that for a moment, and then nodded, but didn't move.

"Come on, then. I imagine you must be hungry."

Brad nodded again, but still didn't move.

"Are you stuck?" Harm asked.

Another nod.

Harm held out his arms. "Jump," he urged.

This time Brad shook his head. "It's too high."

Harm walked around the tree, examining it carefully. Finding a reasonably low branch, he swung himself up. "Hi," he said conversationally.

"Hello, sir." Brad's voice trembled, and his face was tear-streaked.

"Shall we get you out of here?"

Yet another nod.

"All right then, let's see…"

Harm helped Brad climb slowly down from the tree, showing him handholds and footholds until the child dropped safely to the ground with Harm right behind him.

"Nice job," Harm said, with a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Ready to go home?"

"Is my mom there?"

Harm crouched down to Brad's eye level. "Yes, she is."

"She's mad, isn't she."

"Nope. Just worried."

Brad looked dubious.

"Very worried," Harm said firmly.

"She has the baby. She doesn't care about me anymore."

Harm considered that for a moment. "You know," he said finally. "Love's a funny thing."

Brad gave him a puzzled look, and Harm reached over to smooth his cowlick – which promptly popped back up again.

"Do you have a dog at home?" Harm asked.

Brad nodded. "Her name's Sadie. She's mine."

"How long have you had her?"

"Since Christmas."

Harm nodded thoughtfully. "Do you love her?"

Another nod.

"Do you love your parents less now that you have Sadie than you did before you had her?"

"No…"

"See…that's the funny thing about love. No matter how much you have, there's always room for more."

Brad still looked doubtful.

"I tell you what," said Harm. "If we get back, and it turns out I'm wrong, I'll buy you the biggest ice cream sundae you ever saw."

Brad's eyes grew wide. "Promise?"

"Promise." Harm stood up. "Now. How would you like a piggy back ride?"

  
********************

  
"What's taking so long?" Debbie asked, pacing the length of the pavilion for what must've been the hundredth time. Mac watched her empathetically. She didn't know what she'd do if it had been Ben who'd gone missing.

"I'm sure they'll be here soon," she said.

It had been several minutes since Harm had radioed to say they were on their way back to camp, and Debbie was growing increasingly impatient. The other searchers had all returned and were resting at the tables in small groups, talking quietly and sipping the coffee that somebody had thought to provide. It was still raining, the type of steady drizzle that promised to settle in for the night. Mac rubbed the back of her neck and checked her watch.

She'd be glad to get home, get a hot shower, and get to bed. She didn't even feel like cooking. Maybe a pizza would do. She looked back towards the woods in time to see a bedraggled group emerge from its shadows and start toward the pavilion.

"Debbie," she said quietly. "Here they come."

The younger woman spun around, peering toward the woods for a single heartbeat before taking off at a run. Mac followed more slowly, giving Debbie a moment with Brad. She saw Debbie sweep her son into her arms, sinking to the ground with him, her head bent, her shoulders shaking.

Mac approached the group more slowly, crouching down to look at her bedraggled son.

"I see you found him, Ben."

"Yep," Ben said proudly, scratching at a mosquito bite. "Dad and me did."

"Dad and I," she corrected automatically.

"Dad and I," Ben said obediently. "He was in a tree in the middle of Dead Man's Walk."

"Dead Man's Walk?" Mac asked, lifting an eyebrow and glancing toward Harm, who grinned and shrugged.

"The swamp, Mom," Ben explained with all of his six year old patience. "It's 'fested with alligators. It's lucky Brad didn't get eaten."

"Infested with alligators, huh?"

Ben nodded.

"Then I guess you were all very lucky indeed."

"Yup."

"Did you go for a swim?" Mac asked, eying her son's mud covered body.

"Nope. Fell down. Dad swam, though."

"He did?" Mac looked toward Harm.

"Yup. Right through the swamp. Brad was on an island and Dad had to go get him."

Mac nodded. "I see. I'm glad the alligators didn't get Dad."

Ben gave her a look of disbelief. "No way, Mom. They probably knew he'd beat 'em up."

Mac nodded seriously. "You're probably right," she said. Standing up, she offered her hand to her son. "Ready to go home?"

"Yeah," He pulled her back down, whispering in her ear. "Dad needs a shower. He stinks."

Mac stifled a laugh, throwing a grin at Harm. "We can't have that, can we."

"Nope."

Ben turned toward his dad, stretching out a hand. "Come on, Dad. Mom says it's time to go."

Harm took Ben's other hand and the three of them headed for the car. Every few steps, they'd swing Ben back and then forward again, exchanging a grin at their son's squeals of glee. Like all children, he was in a great hurry to grow up – but still delighted by the simple pleasures of youth. Such was the paradox of childhood.

  
**June 21, 2014, 1430 Local  
Rabb Residence  
Washington DC**

  
Harm wrapped an arm around Mac's waist, watching the children tumbling about the yard.

"Think he's having fun?"

Mac laughed. "Sure looks that way."

Benjamin was the center of a group of boys who were currently involved in a rousing game of tag, their shouts of laughter echoing through the neighborhood.

"Can you believe he's already seven years old?" She asked, without taking her eyes off her son.

"Nope. Seems like just yesterday we were rushing to the hospital…"

Mac groaned. "Don't remind me."

They almost hadn't made it, Mac being one of those odd people determined to disprove the prevailing theory that first time labor had to last for hours. It'd been less than forty-five minutes from the time her water had broken to the time Ben had made his appearance, and Harm had been half convinced his son would be one of those born in the back of a car. Luckily, they'd made it into the delivery room – barely – and Ben had been born with a head full of hair and lungs that would've made King Kong jealous. He hadn't slowed down since.

"He's a good kid," she said, smiling fondly as their son darted around a tree to tag a playmate.

"Yeah, he is." He bent his head to kiss her, a kiss that would've lasted much longer were it not for the collective groans of the group of six and seven year old boys.

Harm pulled back and grinned down at her. "Guess that means it's time for cake?"

Mac stretched up to kiss him one more time, just for the hell of it. Then she grinned. "Yep."


End file.
